The Campbell Trilogy Read online

  It was a trap. One in which he would not be caught.

  Then he remembered. He swore, dread settling low in his belly. Jeannie. He’d left her alone, and in doing so had given them the perfect weapon. His muscles flared and fists clenched. If they hurt her, touched her in any way, they would not see another sunrise. He didn’t care if there was an entire army in there.

  His eyes darted to the second floor window, not seeing any movement. He tried not to let it alarm him, but she had to have heard the noise below when the men rushed in. If she wasn’t in her room, it meant she was—

  A muffled woman’s scream tore through the morning air, turning his blood to ice.

  Without hesitation he ran.

  About twenty feet from the door, the loud shot of musket fire pierced the quiet morning air.

  Colin couldn’t believe it. It had been almost too easy—well, except for the big Irishman. His men had taken the inn with nary a shot fired, a dirk had taken care of the sole guardsman outside, and the other men had been virtually helpless while they slept, only to discover that neither his brother nor Lady Jean Gordon were here. His fury was nearly uncontrollable, buoyed by fear that they’d found something.

  The wounded Irishman and the four Gordon guardsmen had been bound and gathered in a group on the floor. The innkeeper, his wife, and his young daughter had also been brought to him. “Where are they?” he demanded of the big man.

  Blood was gushing from the Irishman’s nose and cheek where his face had been smashed by the butt of a musket, but he smiled and asked, “Who?”

  Colin barely contained his irritation. Only his desire to catch his brother prevented him from ordering the man killed instantly. “The outlaw Duncan Dubh.”

  The burly red-haired man shrugged. “I don’t know any outlaws.”

  Colin put the barrel of his pistol right under the man’s chin. “Are you sure about that?”

  The big man didn’t flinch. “Aye.”

  He could see it in his ruddy face—this man would never betray his leader. Colin was about to pull the trigger when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the young maid open her mouth.

  His gaze narrowed on her. “Do you have something to say? Do you know where the outlaw and the woman are?”

  The girl looked scared enough to crap herself. “I …”

  “Bring her to me.”

  She screamed when his men grabbed her. “They’re n-not h-here,” she said, her words barely intelligible behind the frightened sobs. “We didn’t know he was an outlaw. We don’t want no trouble. I saw the black-haired man leave a while ago, heading toward the harbor. I heard them arguing last night and I was concerned about the lady so I went to check on her. She left not long after he did—”

  Her words were cut off by the sound of a gunshot.

  Colin supposed it was too much to hope that someone else might have done his job for him.

  Jeannie’s heart raced to near bursting as she urged the pony faster. The wind ripped through her hair and pounded against her cheeks. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she hardly noticed. All she could think of was getting back to the village. She couldn’t wait to find Duncan and tell him what she’d discovered.

  Refusing to back down, she’d confronted the old woman with what she’d learned. A few pointed questions was all it had taken and like a dam that had been waiting to break, the whole sordid story had come pouring out.

  Davy shouted something that sounded like “be careful” just before she caught sight of a man plunging out from the trees on the right side of the path, cutting her off. She was forced to rein in her mount to avoid colliding with him or veering off the path into the trees and bracken.

  It all happened so fast it took her a moment to realize it was Duncan’s man Leif. In the best of circumstances the Norseman made her uneasy, but with the glacial look on his face right now he made her blood run as cold as his ice-blue eyes. He was an incredibly attractive man, if you could get past the fearsome expression, which she’d yet to do. Hard, emotionless, scary: that about summed him up.

  “What are you doing at the castle?” he demanded, his voice as biting as the wind.

  She didn’t like the way he was looking at her or the suspicion in his voice. She would wager he was well aware of the argument she and Duncan had last night.

  Davy cowered behind her, eyes wide and shoulders shaking.

  She resisted the urge to tell the giant Norseman that it was none of his blasted business. He had no right to question her. It was only that she knew he was motivated by concern and loyalty to Duncan that prevented her from telling him to go to the devil. More importantly, she didn’t want to waste time arguing with him. “I found it. I found the proof we were looking for.” Reaching in her purse, she pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment and handed it to him, hoping he could read Latin.

  Skeptical of her pronouncement, the Norseman kept one eye on her as he carefully unfolded the parchment and read its contents. It didn’t take long.

  Some of the hostility on his face slackened on the first pass. He read it again and then stared at her, unable to conceal his shock. She could commiserate.

  “Where did you get this?”

  She bristled at the arrogance in his tone and said, “Lady MacDonald.”

  He swore and shook his head in disbelief, then handed her back the parchment, which she carefully replaced in the jewel-encrusted purse at her waist. “Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to find Duncan,” she said.

  “I’ll take you myself.”

  If that was an apology, his manner left much to be desired. They rode hard the remainder of the short journey back to the inn, Davy struggling to keep up with their lightning pace. They’d just crested the hill above the village—only a few hundred yards away—when the shot rang out.

  No! Her heart plummeted, an icy chill of premonition running down her spine. She covered her mouth to stifle the scream that rose to her throat.

  Leif swore and reined in his horse, motioning for them to stop.

  She looked at him helplessly, not daring to think what was happening down there—they could see the barn and garden, but not the front yard of the inn.

  A bit of Leif’s icy hard demeanor cracked and he gave her an encouraging grin—at least she thought it was a grin as one side of his mouth lifted. “Don’t worry, lass, the captain can take care of himself.”

  But his confident words could not spell the frantic pounding of her heart. This couldn’t be happening. Not when they were so close! She had the proof. She only needed to get it to him.

  If he’d been caught, he could be executed on the spot. Had that been the shot? Tears swam in her eyes. Her chest tightened painfully. It was too horrible to contemplate.

  As their horses would only be a hindrance now, Leif instructed them to tie them up, leaving Davy to watch over them until it was safe—a task the frightened young man was most willing to accept.

  Cautiously, they crept down the hill, Leif scanning their surroundings the entire time. After what seemed an hour, though was probably only a minute or two, they approached the stable of the inn. Two soldiers stood guarding the kitchen door, presumably to prevent any escape. They could hear voices and shouting coming from the yard.

  Leif pressed his fingers to his lips and motioned for her to follow him. Using the barn as a shield, they skirted around to the front of the inn.

  It was what they feared—soldiers. At least a score of them. One man stood with his back to her. There was something eerily familiar …

  He turned, giving her his profile.

  Jeannie stopped dead in her tracks. The blood slipped from her face.

  Dear God. It was Colin Campbell.

  And then she saw Duncan.

  Anticipating her reaction, Leif pulled her into his arms and put a hand over her mouth to prevent her cry.

  Duncan barely noticed the burning as the musket ball grazed his shoulder, but blood poured down his arm. He was fortunate the soldiers’ guns didn’t